


Collect Your Scars

by Nevanna



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Biting, Communication Failure, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Power Imbalance, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18520045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Some of Alex's injuries are easier to excuse than others.





	Collect Your Scars

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the "bite mark/bruise" square (my wild card) in Round Twelve of Trope Bingo. It's also my twenty-fifth Tortall fic, a full year after I posted [my first one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14383002).
> 
> The title is from the song "The Crooked Kind" by Radical Face.

Alex can explain the bruises, if anybody asks. All of the squires are being trained in combat, and if he wants to become the most accomplished fighter of them all, aren’t some injuries inescapable?

He can hide the marks that careful but persistent teeth have left on his shoulders and inner thighs. Upon his refusal to accompany a group of boys to the swimming hole, a page pipes up that Alex must be trying to outdo their friend Alan’s standoffishness. Alex gives a dry, carefully careless, “Very funny,” and watches them go.

A week later, changing out of his muddy clothes after a morning’s practice in the rain, he thinks that he’s alone until he hears Gary’s voice: “Good gods, Alex, what happened to you?”

Alex hastily tugs a clean shirt over what remains of the lashes that still cover most of his back. “Nothing that concerns you,” he forces out through clenched teeth. He’s trying not to dwell on the agonizing kiss of the whip against his skin as he bent over Roger’s desk, even as the flash of memory heats his blood and sets his head spinning. “The matter is between me and whoever chooses to punish me for my transgressions.”

When he finally trusts himself to turn around, he can see an unfamiliar hesitancy on his friend’s face, as if Gary is weighing the question: “And who was that?”

“Even if I told you, what were you planning to do next?” Alex loads his next words with contempt. “Tell your father?”

“I just might, if I thought one of my friends was being…”

Alex doesn’t, _can’t_ , let him finish that sentence. “Then I’ll make sure _he_ knows how often you’ve used your knowledge of his schedule to sneak around after lights-out.”

Gary stares at him silently for a long moment. “Sometimes even I forget how much you value your pride,” he says. “I’ll try not to make that mistake again.” He turns and leaves as silently as he arrived.

Alex might apologize later, once he’s sure that Duke Gareth won’t learn anything that can be traced back to his son. If Roger finds out that this conversation took place at all (as he has ways of doing), it matters little whether he rewards or punishes Alex, shifts the balance toward pain or ecstasy, as long as no one else receives such attention.

If that costs Alex his friendship with Gary, then so be it. 

Some injuries are inescapable.


End file.
